


Wait In The Fire

by NativeBrummie



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild 1.05 spoilers, Post-1.05, Pre-1.06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NativeBrummie/pseuds/NativeBrummie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone mistakes Grace for a prostitute in The Garrison...it'll probably be the last time that happens. </p>
<p>Written because I'm not optimistic about their prospects for Season 2 and in this one corner of space and time Tommy & Grace had a hope in hell of making it work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wait In The Fire

 

** Wait in the fire **

_Are you a Whore?_

_Are you a good Catholic girl?_

 

Sometimes all the questions kept her awake in her bed, at least when it wasn’t Thomas Shelby keeping her up.

What was she? She knew what she used to be, she used to be Miss Burgess who, when she dared to allow herself to look back, resembled some Celtic Jane Austen heroin going to parties and trying to find a husband who hadn’t heard about what her mother would only refer to in low whisper as ‘the unpleasantness’ and only ever in the privacy of her bedroom with the maids shooed from the room.

She was an agent of the crown until she’d resigned. She supposed she was still a protestant but were you still a protestant if you were becoming increasingly certain that there was no God?

What was she now? She was a barmaid at The Garrison. That was all. Well that wasn’t all, she was Thomas Shelby’s…something.

At the very least she was his secretary. Just that morning he’d leaned over her, looking at the open log books, appearing to anyone who cared to look into the little office of The Garrison as a legitimate business man going over the numbers with his secretary. But if you listened in you’d hear him murmuring low in her ear: _I’m going to have you on this desk Grace, and you’re going to love every second of it._

Unfortunately he wasn’t the only one who entertained notions of fucking her in The Garrison.

It was Saturday night and it was busy with the regulars, the semi regulars and some faces she’d never seen before.

_You’re too nice._

She hadn’t really appreciated what that meant until someone slapped her on the arse as she glided around the bar collecting glasses. Those glasses tumbled from her hands and shattered upon the floor. He was built like a brick outhouse and had the sort of face she’d remember had he ever been in The Garrison before, the sort of face that had taken more punches than he could probably remember.

‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded,

‘What? Oh come on love, there’s only one sort of woman who works in a place like this, what are you doing after closing?’

‘I’m afraid I’ll still be working, I expect I’ll be on my knees until dawn’ she said tartly, thinking about how she was going to be picking shards of glass out of the floorboards before she gave herself a moment to consider her words. He pulled her down into his lap.

‘That’s what I thought’.

 

She supposed that the shattering glass must have alerted Harry who must have knocked on the snug’s hatch shutters because she hadn’t been in his lap for a second before the shadows of Arthur and John were cast over them.

‘There a problem here Grace?’ Arthur enquired,

‘You the Gaffer? Mate, what’s your rate for your girl here? Is it by the hour or by the act?’

Arthur took her by the hand and yanked her up.

‘This is a pub, _Mate_. Not a knocking shop’

‘Ah, I getcha’ he winked, ‘got to be more discreet with the new Chief Inspector in town ‘cleaning up’’

Arthur removed his cap, ready to slash the man six ways till Sunday but John cut in;

‘I don’t think we’re the ones he should be discussing this with, maybe an arrangement could be…knocked out’

Comprehension dawned on Arthur and he pretended to think about this and while the bloke’s attention was on him John looked a Grace with a smirk and bought his finger to his lips.

‘Well if you’re very keen I suppose you could have a word with her man about it’

‘Where’s he to be had?’

‘Oh he’ll be in soon. Grace, I think Harry’s got need of you down the bar, you’ll know when you’re needed’

Grace rolled her eyes discreetly. Grace Burgess. Barmaid. Secretary. Piece of meat.

 

They weren’t waiting long before Tommy strode in and the second he did John was in his ear. He looked up at Grace and then at their visiting patron, face as cool and placid as it always was. He didn’t look at her again until he was standing opposite the bar to her and she’d placed the glass of rum before him. She could read every other part of him except his eyes. They were so big and blue she got lost when she went searching for anything in them.

‘Tommy-’ she began but was swiftly cut off by Arthur escorting the man over.

‘This is the man you want to be talking to about this one’ he said nodding towards Grace. ‘Tommy this bloke here is interested in having Grace here haul his ashes. I told him that you were the man to knock an arrangement out for him’

‘Did you now?’ Tommy let this hang in the air for a moment before continuing ‘well I’m certainly your man for that. You’re new to Small Heath, aren’t you?’

‘Just passing through’

‘Thomas Shelby’s the name’

Someone had clearly made him aware of how things were around Small Heath;

‘You’re the big fish in this pond so I hear’.

‘Summut like that’ Tommy said lightly, ‘You’re a fighting man, that I can see. But are you a betting man?’

‘I don’t catch your meaning’

‘Well it’s been a while since the boys round here had any excitement and some roughhousing they can make a wager on wouldn’t go amiss. You and me. You win, you can have her, free of charge’

‘And if I lose?’

‘If you lose then the rate doubles. Nothing too heavy, we’ll do it on points. Three rounds, best two out of three wins. First one to twenty points wins the round. One for the body, two for the face’

‘Sounds like something I’d be interested in’

Tommy smiled irreverently as if to say _of course you are_.

‘Thought you might be’, he turned to John and Arthur ‘If you’d both be so good’

‘Attention!’ Arthur bellowed as if he was still in the army and every man in the room flinched just a little, ‘special treat for all our loyal and valued customers. Our Tommy versus our new chum Bobby Turner! Three rounds, bare knuckle, get your bets in now!’

John leapt up onto the bar’

‘We all know what’s gonna happen but how’s it going to happen? 2 to 1 on it lasting all of three minutes! 5 to 1 on it lasting more than 5!’ John bellowed out, ‘Get your bets in now!’

 

Tables were pushed aside to make room, the scraping sound going silent in her ears when Tommy came round the bar to her.

He undid his waistcoat and started working on his shirt under his jacket and coat, shrugging the layers off into Grace’s hands before tugging his undershirt over his head.

‘You don’t have to do this’

‘I do’ he told her as lightly as his voice would allow, looking over his shoulder at her and grinning. ‘What are you scared of Grace? That I’m going to let him have you? I didn’t let Billy Kimber have you, why wold I let this fool?’

‘Billy Kimber didn’t catch a beating’

He took her head in her hands and stared intently into her eyes.

‘I’m going to cut out Billy Kimber’s tongue while he’s still breathing and bring it to you wrapped in his handkerchief’

 

She didn’t know what to say to that but it didn’t matter as John was back in his ear.

‘Either under a minuet or stretch it out to five or else it’ll hardly be worth the time’

‘It’s not about the time. Under a minuet it is then’ he said emotionlessly, cracking his shoulders and stretching his arms behind his back, muscles contracting and relaxing back into place.

She hoisted herself up onto the bar so she could see over the heads. The men stood shoulder to shoulder to make a ring, Arthur standing between Bobby and Tommy as the referee.

‘One- two- three-Fight!’

Tommy wasted not a second before he advanced towards this Bobby bloke, undercutting his jaw.

A second punch to the jaw. Body. Body. Jaw. Face. And then he fell to the ground and Tommy was on him. There were bellows for the man to get up and fight;

_Fight ya prick!_

But you could hear the crack of fist against bone over the roar of the crowd.

And then Tommy sprang back up.

‘One, two, three. Down for the count!’ Arthur declared,

‘56 seconds!’ John declared and the cowed made disappointed, frustrated sounds.

 

Tommy silenced them all by putting two fingers to his mouth and letting out two sharp whistles. You could have heard a pin drop in that room.

‘This’ he announced, pointing at the fallen man, ‘is what happens to anyone who disrespects my Grace’

 

And suddenly she didn’t feel like a piece of meat being fought over, suddenly she felt loved.

He pushed through the crowd at his usual measured pace.

‘Tommy-’ she began softly but found herself cut off by her own shriek at the shock of being pulled off the bar and over his shoulder.

‘Backroom, now’ her rasped as he carried her off towards the back.

 

The second the office door was closed he had her back up against it and their mouths crashed against each other’s.

‘On the desk?’ she panted,

He ran his hands up her legs taking her skirt with them and picking her up by the backs of her thighs.

‘Yes Grace, on the desk’.


End file.
